


Jamilton Fluff, or the fishing trip with President Washington

by LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander and Thomas always arguing, But they secretly like it, Fishing Trip, Fluff, Hamilton doesn't know how to fish, I love Jamilton so much aaaaaa, M/M, Picnic, Poetry reading, Washington is the fisherman master, cabinet meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet/pseuds/LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet
Summary: Jefferson and Hamilton are driving Washington mad with their continuous arguing, so George takes the extreme decision to have a fishing trip with both of them.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Jamilton Fluff, or the fishing trip with President Washington

**Author's Note:**

> Hey sweetpeas! I've started writing some one-shot stories on Wattpad and I've decided to publish some of them here as well. They are kinda "commissioned" stories since the readers can ask for a specific couple and a setting (like canon era, modern, college, etc.) and I'll write them! If you want to ask for a story find me on Wattpad (@HardRockLikeLancelot).
> 
> This is the second one, and I'm so very happy I got another chance to write about my favourite couple :D Enjoy the story, and if you like it, go find more Jamilton fluff in my other work "Mr Jefferson is coming home"! Love ya! ♡

“Enough!” George Washington burst out at last, frowning at the two men in front of him who’d been shouting at each other for the last thirteen minutes and were now on the verge of fighting, “I can’t stand your arguing anymore, you have to find a way to cooperate,” he rubbed his temples with a tired expression, “Jefferson, just let Hamilton go.”

The taller man released Hamilton’s waistcoat with a snort, and Hamilton lowered his fists with a vexed look – what did Washington mean with ‘cooperate’?

“Hamilton, son, I –

“Sir, Jefferson started it!”

“What?” Thomas turned around with an incredulous face, “did he really said it?”

“SHUT. UP.”

They both crossed their arms and looked at the President, who was quickly running out of patience. He walked back and forth with his hands behind his back for a couple of minutes, trying to calm down, and finally sat on his chair, sighing deeply before coming down with the verdict.

“Gentlemen, we’re going fishing next week.”

For a moment, no one talked. Then Jefferson’s voice broke the silence.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.”

“But Sir, I have to go back to Monticello next week, I have some meetings –

“I don’t care, Mr Jefferson, consider it a work business and tell your guests they’ll have to wait.”

“Sir, it’s not only him,” Hamilton stepped in, “I have so much work to do, I can’t take a break and go fishing,” he spat the last two words as if he was repugned by the thought.

Washington completely ignored Hamilton’s last comment and headed to the door.

“I’ll see you on Monday, we’re going to Sandy Hook. Remember to bring a pair of comfortable shoes.”

He went away without another word. Hamilton turned around to face Jefferson with an enraged expression.

“I fucking hate you,” he stated before following the President outside the room.

* * *

It was a beautiful day of June, the ocean was almost calm and a cool breeze was coming from south-west. The perfect day for fishing, the president had claimed.

“Jefferson, shouldn’t you bringing a fishing rod with you?” Alexander looked askance at the other two men as they walked toward the beach.

“I won’t fish.”

“I thought this was a fishing trip.”

“First of all, this is a nightmare,” Thomas muttered to himself with a sigh, “I brought a book with me, I’ll leave the fish for you two.”

“Alexander, let’s see who’s the best at fishing, shall we?”

“Sir, you won’t stand a chance against me.”

“Ha! Have you ever fished?”

“Nope – but it can’t be too difficult, right?”

“Good luck, son,” Washington was in such a good mood that Hamilton and Thomas didn’t feel like bickering for a while.

After a couple of hours, Thomas was napping peacefully when he felt something dropping on the sand next to him; he half-opened an eye and saw Hamilton throwing his fishing rod some feet afar, a big frown on his face.

“Any luck?”

“I don’t like fishing.”

“I thought you said it was easy,” Thomas mocked, closing his eyes again, “how many fish has Washington caught?”

“Seven.”

“We’ll have a lot to eat for dinner I guess,” Thomas stretched and got up, walking away from Hamilton.

“Hey – where are you going?”

“I’m only trying to make this truce work by avoiding you as much as I can.”

“You jerk.”

Thomas fetched the basket of fish from Washington and headed to the small house they’ve rented for the week to prepare supper. He uncorked a bottle of a light white wine and poured himself a glass, sipping from time to time while heating the stove and adding some ingredients into the big pot.

After another half-an-hour, Washington and Hamilton came back with another basket of fish and prepared the fire to smoke them. When they finally sat at the dinner table, Washington was exhausted but satisfied with the day, Hamilton was – well, according to the record-time he’d needed to make his food disappear from the plate, probably hungry. Thomas looked pleased when the other two men congratulated him for his cooking – Washington happily praised his skills, while Alexander said that the food wasn’t _that_ bad.

The following two days went on almost the same – Washington would catch a lot of fish, Alexander nothing at all, while Thomas would read or walk along the shore before going back home to cook something. The day before going back to NYC, however, Thomas planned to have a picnic in a park nearby – he was already packing the food, when suddenly Hamilton appeared in the kitchen with a disgruntled face.

“What do you want, Hamilton?”

“Washington isn’t feeling very well – he’s got a headache because of all the sun of the last days.”

“Does he need a doctor?”

“No, he only needs to rest.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“Why can’t you just ask politely?”

“All right – can I come with you today since I don’t have shit to do?”

“I don’t think you know how politeness works.”

“Damn you, Jefferson,” Alexander groaned, “can we _please_ enjoy a picnic and act like normal people for a change?”

“OK, let’s give it a chance” Thomas eventually gave up, “but you have to behave.”

Alexander bit his tongue not to argue back – he wanted to answer that he was not a baby and that he could ask the same of him, but he didn’t want to ruin the only chance they’ve got to spend some time without arguing, so he let it slide.

They walked in silence until they reached a shady spot in the park and Thomas spread out a big blanked were they could comfortably sit. Alexander read aloud the beginning of _Common Sense_ by T. Paine and Thomas simply lied there, enjoying the warm rays of the sun on his dark skin and Alexander’s beautiful voice. After reading for some minutes, Alex glanced down at Thomas, who seemed to be asleep – his arms behind his head and a relaxed smile on his face – jeez, he was beautiful when he smiled. For the first time since they’d met, Alexander had the time to really look at him closely, admiring every detail of his figure, from his curly and puffy hair to his round and plump lips; he felt the urge to know if they were as soft as they looked.

Thomas suddenly noticed that Hamilton had stopped reading and lazily opened his eyes, only to find the other man looking at him with an amazed and yearning face.

“Alexander?” he asked doubtfully, “are you ok?”

“I – Yes,” Alexander quickly hided his face into the book again, “I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Thomas chuckled, grabbing his bag and starting drawing out a lot of food and a couple of bottles of wine, “red or white?”

“Red,” Alexander was still a bit dazzled.

“I prefer red wine too – hey, we’ve found something we don’t disagree on!” Jefferson smiled, making Alexander’s heart jumping a beat.

“Yes,” he said softly, “maybe this trip was not a complete mistake in the end.”

Thomas looked surprised for a moment and sipped his wine thoughtfully, glancing at Alexander’s blushing face.

“You’re right,” he finally admitted after some minutes, pouring himself and Alexander another glass of wine, “it’s strangely nice to stay with you like this.”

“It’s probably the alcohol talking,” Alexander joked and they both laughed, agreeing that they should have a couple of drinks before every Cabinet meeting to get along.

After lunch, Alexander was looking at the clouds passing by upon them, when he suddenly saw Thomas laying down on his stomach next to him, holding another book in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“I think on thee, and then my state, / like to the lark at break of day arising / from sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate; / for thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings / that then I scorn to change my state with kings,” Thomas read out, “it’s Shakespeare.”

“Sonnet 29, if I remember correctly.”

“Right,” Thomas sounded surprised, “I didn’t know you liked poetry too.”

“My mum used to read that to me.”

Thomas didn’t miss a flash of sadness darken Alexander’s beautiful hazel eyes. Only when they widened in surprise, Thomas realised he’d taken Alexander’s hand and that their faces were inches away.

“Thomas?”

“Mh?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you want me to do?”

Alexander’s gaze moved quickly from Thomas’s dark eyes to his lips. He sighed deeply, inhaling Thomas’s sweet smell, and realised he’d moved closer to Jefferson, who was still waiting for an answer, smiling his tantalizing grin.

“Kiss me?” he dared ask.

Thomas slowly closed the distance between their lips, stopping half-an-inch from Alexander’s face, savouring the perfect moment before the kiss – the time seemed to stop with him and they both felt their heartbeat fasten. In the end, Alexander verified his theory on Thomas’s lips – yes, they were soft, perfect to kiss and to bite – and they discovered something far more enjoyable they could do together instead of fighting. That cloudy day of June, they simply stood there lying on the blanket, wrapped in each other’s embrace, looking at the shape of the clouds and telling some funny stories about their past – trying to get to know each other better. They would have never imagined to get along THAT well, but, in the end, they had to admit that Washington’s fishing trip had been a complete success.

Mission accomplished, Mr President.


End file.
